


Zip me

by the_nita



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Drabble, F/M, Really rusty so be gentle
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-27
Updated: 2012-12-27
Packaged: 2017-11-22 18:14:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 591
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/612753
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_nita/pseuds/the_nita
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Written for an Ask Box meme over on Tumblr with the prompt "Zip Me".  For arms-and-arrows. Sidhera is always my muse for writing Clintasha but none of this has been beta'd so all the mistakes are my own.</p>
    </blockquote>





	Zip me

**Author's Note:**

> Written for an Ask Box meme over on Tumblr with the prompt "Zip Me". For arms-and-arrows. Sidhera is always my muse for writing Clintasha but none of this has been beta'd so all the mistakes are my own.

“Stop being such a baby. You need help or you’re not going to get dressed. It’s not my damned fault that you fell through a bloody sheet glass window.”

Natasha glared at Clint as he stubbornly stood in his bathroom, buck naked, save for the waterproof cast on his (thankfully) non-shooting arm. Between falling through the window like some crazy Spiderman fan and then ignoring the damage and not going to medical, he was now dealing with a fractured humerus that had to be rebroken to be set properly.

And Clint being Clint, he was refusing to let it slow him down. Except one small problem. Dressing himself was an issue. Especially anything with buttons. Not a big problem generally, in that Clint’s preferred non-SHIELD-issue outfit was sweats and a tshirt, but they were making a command performance, thanks to Stark’s overwhelming need to be the center of anything that vaguely looked like publicity and Fury had thought it was a not-terrible idea to put some ostensible space between Strike Team Delta and SHIELD so had all but told them point blank to go.

Which left Natasha dealing with a Clint who didn’t want help getting into the “monkey suit” he didn’t want to wear in the first place.

“Enough. Get out here and hold still. If I have to go to this, so do you. As you are not going to be permitted in naked, I will help you get dressed, if I have to knock you out to do so.”

He rolled his eyes. “Fine. Just remember, I still think this is dumb and I don’t want to do it.”

“Understood.”

She rummaged in his drawers, pulling out a pair of boxer briefs.

“Lift.”

He lifted each of his feet, letting her slip the underwear on his legs. She knelt in front of him, pulling them up gently, rising as she did so. Reaching his groin, she tucked her hand inside and adjusted him to the right, grinning slightly as he gasped.

“The hell, Nat?”

“What – you’d prefer being to the left?”

“That’s NOT what I meant.”

She ignored his bluster, walking over to where his clothes were hanging. Slipping the dress shirt off his hanger, she walked over to him. She stepped behind him, carefully threading his injured arm through the sleeve, eschewing the cufflink on that side in favour of more space for his cast. She helped him shrug on the other sleeve, then stood closely in front of him, closing up the front with the tiny pearl buttons she liked best.

“Tasha…” His voice had become rough as sandpaper.

“Yes, Clint?” Her eyes raised to his as she finished with the buttons.

“Ummm….”

She turned and walked back to get his pants. Returning, she put one hand on his chest and steered him back to the edge of his bed and pushed him down on it. Standing between his legs, she lifted one, then the other, slipping the gorgeous Italian wool pant up his strong calves. Grabbing him by the waistband of his briefs, she pulled him to standing again, bending slightly to catch the pants and draw them up over his ass and catch the slide and zipper with her clever fingers.

“Tasha?”

“Yes, Clint?”

“Do you really want to go to this shindig?”

“No, Clint.”

“Think you can work on getting this off me again?”

A slow grin crossed her face as she grazed her hands from his chest down to the front of his pants.

“I’m sure I can lend you a hand.”


End file.
